


A Trim and a Shave

by ditac



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 00:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditac/pseuds/ditac
Summary: Coran plays barber and it's a surprising respite for Shiro.





	A Trim and a Shave

**Author's Note:**

> hey so this is basically a scene-fill fic for the beginning of s3e6. u kno how the rest goes

Shiro exhales and leans back into the pillow propped up against the wall. It was reassuring to talk with Keith - to discuss the possible ways and reasons of how he winded back on a Galran ship before making a getaway. But there is still this awful buzzing headache that seemed to be impossible to shake. Sweat begins to prickle his skin as he dwells on the hazy recollections that had pierced his mind back on that Galran ship. Shiro really couldn't remember anything else from between the big battle against Zarkon and waking up. Odder still, he could only remember vague memories from before that altercation, which imparted a feeling of dissociation.

Slowly, he rises from his bunk, gripping his forehead with his metallic hand, the cold metal quickly warming up against his skin. He couldn't make sense of the blurry images that flashed under his eyelids against the static.

He stumbles towards the bathroom, catching the wall with his shoulder before resignedly leaning against the doorframe.

_"If you're feeling up to it, the rest of the team would be thrilled to see you up and around again."_

When he finally opens his eyes, the face that stares back at him in the mirror is a stranger. Shiro gathers himself, steadily approaching until he brings a hand up to the mirror, gently placing it on the glass before sliding his bare fingertips downwards over the reflection of his scraggly long hair.

"How much time has passed?" Shiro mumbles, his hand forming a fist before banging against the mirror. He can't look away from his reflection. And how did he get that scar again..? It takes him too long to recall, but perhaps that can be attributed to the physically and emotionally painful context.

He doesn't hear a knock - if there even was one - but the door to his room opens, punctuated by echoey footsteps.

"Shiro?"

"I'm in the bathroom."

"Oh, pardon my intrusion, carry on-"

Shiro quickly steps out of the bathroom to dispell the misunderstanding, just as the doors reopen for Coran to take his exit. "No, it's fine, Coran. I was just looking in the mirror, that's all."

The doors close as Coran steps forward, chin thoughtfully cradled in his fingers. "I can see why you might be doing that... Have you done something new with your hair?"

Shiro feels the corner of his mouth turn upwards slightly, matching Coran's playful grin. He runs his hand through the long white and black strands that frame his face. "There's no way I could outdo your moustache."

"Hm. Quite right," Coran nods, twirling the end of his moustache for good measure. "Though you're putting on a rather pitiful show." He raises his eyebrows before leaning in, "I'll let you in on a little secret: this magnificent 'stache wouldn't be nearly as impressive if I had just let it sprout all on its own." Shiro could practically feel the orange moustache hairs tickling his own cheek. "I certainly wouldn't mind lending you my own personal concoction of castor slugbean oil to aid in your facial hair growth efforts-"

"That's really generous of you," Shiro interrupts smoothly, subtly sidestepping to gain a more comfortable distance. "But I was actually thinking of going in the opposite direction of hair growth."

Coran snaps his fingers. "I see! Lovely. I do believe I've still got a package of Polluxian hot sugar wax that'll do just the trick!"

Shiro grabs Coran's shoulder before the gentleman could leave and fetch the stuff. "There's no need to go to all that trouble, really."

"Well, then what are you going to do about your hair situation?"

"I think that my hair is the least of my worries-"

"Nonsense! Gibberdoodle! I won't hear of it!" Coran cups Shiro's chin in one hand, almost squishing his cheeks as he made him look to the left, then to the right. "How can we have our brave leader of Voltron looking like he was held captive on a Galran ship for quintants on end before making a daring escape followed by embarking on a harrowing journey to regroup with the team?!"

Shiro moves his lips in an attempt to reply, and Coran releases him from his grasp, speaking over him, "Don't answer that, Shiro."

"I've been resting long enough on the sidelines..."

_"They need you, you know."_

"Yes, yes, the paladins are on the bridge waiting for you, as I'm sure Keith has relayed." Coran juts a thumb towards the bathroom door opening, where the mounted mirror is visible. "Do you want to face them as the leader of Voltron looking like that?"

The stranger in the mirror sighed. "No."

"Good answer." Coran brushes past Shiro, toting the desk chair along behind him as he briskly enters the bathroom and flips the mirror open to reveal the contents of the medicine cabinet. "Ah! You're a folding blade razor man!"

When Coran sets up the desk chair in front of the sink and mirror combo, it strikes Shiro that Coran actually intends to give him a proper cut and shave. Shiro is about to protest against it because he can do it himself and he wouldn't want to trouble him, but Coran pats the seat of the chair, ushering him to _hurry up, the team is waiting_.

Shiro gets settled in the chair as Coran takes off his gloves and prepares to the strop the razor. Coran makes short work of stropping the razor's edge with expert strokes before setting it back on the cabinet shelf to retrieve the complementing brush. Shiro wants to tell Coran to forgo this part and just get on with shaving, but Coran is moving as if he were performing a ritual, and who was Shiro to interfere?

Coran soaks the shaving brush with warm water before adding a dollop of thick shaving cream to the mug, taking care to flick off excess water.

"Say, Shiro," Coran pipes up as he begins to work up a thick lather in the mug with the brush. "You strike me as the type of person who doesn't really need to shave often, so why go through all the trouble of meddling with a folding blade razor when you could just get away with a simple razor?"

"Okay, well you're sort of correct on that 'doesn't really need to shave often' observation," Shiro admits, little to no resentment at the fact hinted. "My thinking was something like... 'Why not make it an event?' I don't need to shave often, so when I do..." He gestures at Coran tapping the brush on the lid of the mug to do away with any excess cream.

"I see..." Coran continues to talk as he evenly applies shaving cream to one side of Shiro's cheek before covering the other. "That's a nice mindset." After placing the brush back into the mug, Coran takes the handle of the razor into a relaxed grip. "I quite enjoy using a folding blade razor because-" Coran applies the razor's edge at Shiro's right cheekbone and follows through with a slow stroke, resting the blade at his jaw. "- it makes me feel alive."

Shiro grins through the shaving cream. "You've got a point there."

With expert grace, Coran finishes off the right side of Shiro's cheek, then nudges him to the other side where he smoothly applies the razor to the left half. Shiro lets Coran tilt his chin upwards to get at the rest of it. He closes his eyes as he feels the blade glide right under his jaw, then his neck, and then he hears water run from the tap. Shiro's eyes snap open when Coran claps both hands on his cheeks, almost massaging his face with water so as to rinse off any shaving cream residue.

"Now, if we had more time, and if I were more prepared, I would have, of course, performed one more pass against the grain, followed up with a cooling wych-kelp hazel aftershave. My, my, this is almost a disservice to you!"

"Next time, for sure," Shiro says, meeting twinkling eyes.

"Don't think I won't remember that!" Coran elbows the medicine cabinet open as he quickly rinses off the mug and brush, then the blade before folding it up and popping the tools back onto their shelf within the mirror. "But we still need to deal with your flowing locks!"

"Yeah, definitely." Shiro realizes he feels like he has energy again - not the kind of adrenaline pumped power in the face of danger, but the feeling of vitality resting in his skin and blood. "Coran, just skip the rinse - I'd hate to keep everyone waiting even longer."

"Well, I need to at least mist it! C'mon Shiro, don't you have a spray bottle?"

"Uh, no?"

"For shame!" Coran runs his hands under the tap. "This will have to do!"

Dampened hands pat the top of Shiro's head, over and over as Coran has to add a little water each time Shiro's hair soaks it up.

"So what hairstyle are we thinking here? My opinion is that a bob would definitely accentuate your strong jaw!"

"Coran," Shiro says quickly (it was too late, he was already imagining it), "I think I'd like my hair the way it was before."

"Hmm, you're right, a bob would be overkill - what was I thinking!" Coran snatches the pair of scissors off the shelf and makes a couple snips in the air before shutting the cabinet. "One 'Classic Shiro' coming right up!"

Gradually, to the tune of Coran's soothing humming (apparently an Altean lullaby that Allura's mother used to sing), the stranger in the mirror began to look familiar to Shiro. Black hair soon littered the floor, and then a streak of white.

Coran fluffs up the front of Shiro's hair, then almost rests his chin on Shiro's shoulder as he looks at him through the mirror. "To be honest, I was nervous about giving you a cut since that wacky hairdo of yours is a little outside the range of my usual hair services, but I'd like to think that I'm doing a fabulous job of not botching it!"

"Of course you- wait, Coran, you think my hair is wacky?"

"Unusual," Coran backtracks, offering a toothy smile. "But it's good! It suits you!"

"...Thanks." Shiro tilts his head as he looks at his hair; it was basically trimmed completely to the same style - all that was left to do was shave the sides. "Hey, Coran?"

"No, really, Shiro, you look very handsome with this haircut, I didn't mean anything by suggesting another style earlier."

"Coran," Shiro tries again, "I was just going to say, maybe leave it like this?"

"You mean to say, don't worry about shaving the sides? I assure you, it's no burden."

"No, it's not that," he says. "I think I'm due for a little bit of a change, and this is really nice, the way it is." The Shiro in the mirror has a softer look about him.

"Well if that's what you want," Coran replies, dusting stray hairs off of Shiro's shoulders and the back of his neck. "For the record, I agree. You look super fly!"

Coran and Lance must have been exchanging Altean and English slang again. _Super fly._ Shiro just smiles.

"Good to know. And I feel much, much better now." He reaches a hand to where Coran's is resting on his shoulder and squeezes. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Coran squeezes back warmly, then lets go. "Now-" Coran clutches Shiro's arms and gets him to his feet. "I'll tend to this mess here. Your team awaits!"

Shiro nods and leaves the bathroom. He looks back once more before exiting, watching Coran busy himself with clearing up all the hair from the floor.

He winces as a throbbing headache suddenly hits him, right when he sets foot in the hallway, and his dorm door shuts behind him.

Shiro clutches the wall to steady himself, then relaxing, gasping, when the pain subsides just as quickly as it had come.

A headache remained, however, not in vertigo inducing form. Shiro realizes that he hadn't felt that static in his head the whole time Coran was playing barber. Shiro exhales. It was alright. He could deal with this.

When he had first returned to the Castle of Lions, each step had sapped what little energy remained after his ordeal, even with support from Keith to get to a healing pod. The healing pod had done its job in healing physical injuries, yet he'd been perpetually tired from that point on. But now he feels lighter on his feet and more certain of himself than previously. As he approaches the entrance to the bridge, he bites the inside of his cheek, wondering how he should address the team after being away for so long. He tries to remember the tune that Coran had been humming.

The doors to the bridge open, the scene is suddenly very familiar - Allura is standing in her command base, and the other paladins are in position, except Lance is moved up and Keith is hovering over the Black Paladin panel.

Shiro takes a step in and firmly plants his hands on his hips as everyone turns to look at him. "Great job out there, everyone. You've really turned the tide on this war. I'm glad you never lost sight of the mission while I was gone."

"You're looking better," Lance says, genuine in his smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Good! Just trying to get rid of this weird headache..."

"Guys! I think I found something here!" Pidge interrupts. As Pidge continues to explain the discovery, Coran joins the group gathering around Pidge's monitor, and then Hunk builds on Pidge's comments and Shiro's assessment of the situation; although the fast-paced nature of things really hits him, he is able to keep up, and Shiro can't help but feel relief in being re-immersed with the team despite the obstacles that were in store for them.

**Author's Note:**

> aaand thats where shiro got his new fresh 'do. quit sayin it's ugly  
> (coran voice) his hair before? WHACK his hair now? TIGHT AS QUIZNAK


End file.
